June Inspirational Quotes

Do not seek the because - in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions.

There are two ways to reach me: by way of kisses or by way of the imagination. But there is a hierarchy: the kisses alone don't work.

We're each given one life, and it's our job to make it useful, beautiful, and fulfilling. There is no value in suffering through it, doing something we hate. There's no prize at the end for that kind of endurance. Just a spent life.

Money is the most important thing in the world, you know. Money can buy you happiness, and I don't care what anyone else thinks.

So, when I thought June might take you away, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like she was taking everything that mattered to me. I felt like she was taking away from you all the things that I didn’t have. That’s why I’m sorry. I’m sorry because you shouldn’t have to be everything to me. I had you, but I’d forgotten that I had myself too.

I was a hugely unchaperoned reader, and I would wander into my local public library and there sat the world, waiting for me to look at it, to find out about it, to discover who I might be inside it." [Patrick Ness slams library cuts (The Guardian, 23 June 2011)]

Google is so my bitch

What a strange thing it is to wake up to a milk-white overcast June morning! The sun is hidden by a thick cotton blanket of clouds, and the air is vapor-filled and hazy with a concentration of blooming scent. The world is somnolent and cool, in a temporary reprieve from the normal heat and radiance. But the sensation of illusion is strong. Because the sun can break through the clouds at any moment . . . What a soft thoughtful time. In this illusory gloom, like a night-blooming flower, let your imagination bloom in a riot of color.

When we believe, we hold on to what we think is true. But when we have a conviction, that truth holds on to us.

Every life, every story, has peaks and valleys. You are walking through a low spot now. Perhaps it's foggy in the valley. And maybe you can't see the path anymore. But it's there. Keep walking on it. You'll find your way. And when you come through the thicket, with little rabbits hopping about, there will be a clearing, and the sun will be shining down on you with rays that will warm you and inspire you again.

May I never miss a sunset or a rainbow because I am looking down.

Evil's something you can decide to do every day, and it gets easier every time. But the more good you bring into the world, maybe the more the rest of the world would look like this. Like paradise.

The bride's about to throw her bouquet," Mom told me the day after she turned 96. "Come on, June, get me up there!" (She stole the bouquet and kept it.)

Opportunities pop up for everybody all of the time. It's the way that we progress. It's whether or not you're in the right frame of mind or in the right stage of your life or if you're even looking for them [that determines] whether or not you see them. [...] As you take more risks you see opportunities more easily. [Risks are] never the safe option, but for me the safe option is the worst option. [...] The riskiest life I can think of is letting yourself to be molded into this comfortable, same-as-everybody-else routine. For me, that is risking my whole life.

And, of course, that is what all of this is - all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs - that song, endlesly reincarnated - born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 - same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness.

Sometimes I think of my life as a great big story. Each silly thing I do is a new paragraph. And each morning I turn to the next chapter. It's fun to think of life that way, each day being an adventure of the grandest proportions. If I can give you any advice, my dear, and I am unworthy, at best, to be doling out such wisdom, I might just say this: Whenever you're down on your luck, and when things aren't going the way you like, remember that you are the author of your own story. You can write it any way you like, with anyone you choose. And it can be a beautiful story or a sad and tragic one. You get to pick.

But you know what? Peace is just an idea. There will never be peace on Earth, at least, not the kind of kumbaya-harmony people envision. There can be ceasefires and treaties, but we will never know true peace. That's the sad truth of the world.

Every time I have a bad day, I'll just find a corner, bring out my book and then everything starts to feel better.

Once you witness an injustice, you are no longer an observer but a participant.” ~ June Callwood.

Words to a writer is like notes to a musician, both know when they are off key.

Only voluntary, inspired self-restraint can raise man above the world stream of materialism.

I gave him the one thing June cannot give him: honesty. I am so ready to admit what a supremely developed ego would not admit: that June is a terrifying and inspiring character who makes every other woman insipid, that I would live her life except for my compassion and my conscience, that she may destroy Henry the man, but Henry the writer is more enriched by ordeals than by peace.

Broad-Based Education: Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country.… I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this.… It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can’t capture, and I found it fascinating. None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. —Commencement address, Stanford University, June 12, 2005

Church paid more than $3 billion to settle abuse complaints between 1950 and 2015. In Boston, the archdiocese paid $154 million to settle with 1,230 victims from 2002 through June 30, 2014, the most recent figures available. Between 2004 and 2015, twelve dioceses nationwide filed for bankruptcy protection.

Roads go ever ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea; Over snow by winter sown, And through merry flowers of June, Over grass and under stone, And under mountains in the moon. Roads go ever ever on Under cloud and under star Yet feet that wandering have gone Turn at last to home afar. Eyes that fire and sword have seen And horror in the halls of stone Look at last on meadows green And trees and hills they long have known.

gave him the one thing June cannot give him: honesty. I am so ready to admit what a supremely developed ego would not admit: that June is a terrifying and inspiring character who makes every other woman insipid, that I would live her life except for my compassion and my conscience, that she may destroy Henry the man, but Henry the writer is more enriched by ordeals than by peace.

MY BATTERY IS LOW AND IT´S GETTING DARK. (Launched on July 7, 2003; MER-1 or "Opportunity" traveled 28 miles on Mars over a span of 14 years, leading humanity forward; this is the message from the last contact on June 10, 2018)

It's amazing how quickly people will discourage you, knock you down, and devalue you because.. basically, they can. The question is, how quickly will you draw a boundary and put an end to toxicity in your life? This is something you need to learn how to do if you want to be at peace and cut out all of the drama.

The Confederate flag had been raised above the South Carolina statehouse in 1962—in direct defiance of racial integration and the civil rights movement3—and has been used as an emblem of white hate and violence against black people ever since. It is therefore an anti-Christian flag that helped inspire the murder of black Christians on June 17, 2015.

I did make a mistake in judging Anne, but it weren't no wonder, for an odder, unexpecteder witch of a child there never was in this world, that's what. There was no ciphering her out by the rules that worked with other children. It's nothing short of wonderful how she's improved these three years, but especially in looks. She's a real pretty girl got to be, though I can't say I'm overly partial to that pale, big-eyed style myself. I like more snap and color, like Diana Barry or Ruby Gillis. Ruby Gillis' looks are real showy. But somehow- I don't know how it is but when Anne and them are together, though she ain't half as handsome, she makes them look kind of common and overdone- something like them white June lilies she calls narcissus alongside of the big, red peonies, that's what.

The following is a fictionalized and utterly false account of the events that most definitely did not happen on June 9-10, 1967. And yet, while all the characters in this story are little green men and women running around inside my head, the events that served as inspiration, the historical facts, as it were, must be considered no less than a sibling of the tale contained in these pages: the story I didn't write, but could have written--the book this could have been, but isn't.

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. —Galatians 3:28 (ESV) On June 16, 1963, in the middle of an epic struggle for civil rights in America, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel sent a powerful telegram to President John F. Kennedy: We forfeit the right to worship God as long as we continue to humiliate Negroes. . . . The hour calls for moral grandeur and spiritual audacity. When we demean, humiliate, debase God’s beloved creation, the rabbi said, we forfeit our very right to worship God.

Kristen and I always have a lot to celebrate at the end of June. First there’s Father’s Day, followed by our wedding anniversary and my birthday. But prior to the Best Practices this two-week season of parties didn’t inspire much of a celebratory mood. It always felt strange celebrating Father’s Day, given that my parenting skills had been something of a disappointment for the first three years, and the tears that Kristen had shed on our third wedding anniversary spoke rather poignantly to the fact that our marriage hadn’t been much to celebrate, either. That left my birthday, a day that was all about toasting the birth of the very person who had made Kristen’s life miserable.

With a sudden strike of inspiration, she blurted, “Why don’t you write a novel? I know you have enough life experiences to fill a whole room with books, and with you as the main character.” She placed the coffee cup back into Havok’s hands before reaching down to grab the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head, and balling it up in her hands. Standing naked, she brought the shirt to her nose and closed her eyes. “I can be one of your characters,” she purred, her eyes still closed. “A sexually frustrated homemaker whom you rescue from a boring marriage and ravage anytime you wish.” “I couldn’t tell you the difference between a split infinitive and a sentence fragment. Besides, the protagonists in most novels are supposed to be some sort of good-looking and chivalrous knights in shining armor who, at no time, sleeps with another man’s wife, always knows how to work a toilet seat, cooks the perfect eggs, and never burns the toast.” Havok shrugged his shoulders. “I have a habit of burning toast.” With the shirt still against her nose, June opened her eyes. “Somehow, I think that you make it a habit of burning your toast.

A reply dated 13 May finally arrived from the town clerk. Mr Mottershead could open the zoo subject to: 1) the type of animals being limited to those already described in previous correspondence; 2) the estate should not be used as an amusement park, racing track or public dance hall; and 3) no animals were to be kept within a distance of a hundred feet from the existing road. This necessitated the purchase of an additional strip of land between the road and the estate, which would have to be securely enclosed, but which couldn't be used for animals. (First it was used as a children's playground and later became a self-service cafe.) Somehow my dad managed to get a further mortgage of £350 to pay for the land and fencing. Of all the conditions, the most damaging in the long term was the last: the zoo was allowed 'no advertisement, sign or noticeboard which can be seen from the road above-mentioned'. Only a small sign at the entrance to the estate would be permitted, which meant the lodge, which was a good twenty-five yards from the road was completely invisible to any passing car. This would remain a problem for a very long time. For many years, the night before bank holidays, Dad and his friends would have to go out and hang temporary posters under the official road signs on the Chester bypass. The police turned a blind eye as long as they were taken down shortly afterwards.

SWEETEST IN THE GALE by Michelle Valois After Emily Dickinson You won’t lose your hair, I heard at the start of treatment, and though I didn’t, I lost a litany of other lesser and greater luxuries—saliva, stamina, taste buds, my voice—but my hair, during that chilly sojourn in the land of extremity to which I had sailed on a strange and stormy sea, my hair was not taken from me. Had it been, I would have perched one of those 18th century wigs on my head, such as those worn by the French aristocracy, measuring three, four, even five feet high and stuffed, as they were known to be, with all sorts of things: ribbons, pearls, jewels, flowers, tunes without words, reproductions of great sailing vessels, my soul inside a little bird cage—ornaments selected to satisfy a theme: the signs of the Zodiac (à la Zodiaque) or the discovery of a new vaccine (à l’inoculation) or, as was the case in June of 1782, the first successful hot air balloon flight by the brothers Michel and Etienne Montgolfier. Regarde, I exclaim to my ladies in waiting, pointing to the sky on that bright afternoon as the balloon, made of linen and paper, rises some 6,000 feet. Later, a duck, then a sheep, and finally a human is carried away. I watch, inspired, hopeful, whispering, lest my doctors overhear: when the storm turns sore, and that little bird escapes her little bird cage and is abashed without reckoning, I will sail away in my balloon, prepared, if it fails me, to pluck a few ostrich feathers from the high hair of the Queen of France herself; they and hope (which never asked for a crumb) will carry me beyond disease for as long as I have left to choose between futility and flight.

Everything and Nothing* There was no one inside him; behind his face (which even in the bad paintings of the time resembles no other) and his words (which were multitudinous, and of a fantastical and agitated turn) there was no more than a slight chill, a dream someone had failed to dream. At first he thought that everyone was like him, but the surprise and bewilderment of an acquaintance to whom he began to describe that hollowness showed him his error, and also let him know, forever after, that an individual ought not to differ from its species. He thought at one point that books might hold some remedy for his condition, and so he learned the "little Latin and less Greek" that a contemporary would later mention. Then he reflected that what he was looking for might be found in the performance of an elemental ritual of humanity, and so he allowed himself to be initiated by Anne Hathaway one long evening in June. At twenty-something he went off to London. Instinctively, he had already trained himself to the habit of feigning that he was somebody, so that his "nobodiness" might not be discovered. In London he found the calling he had been predestined to; he became an actor, that person who stands upon a stage and plays at being another person, for an audience of people who play at taking him for that person. The work of a thespian held out a remarkable happiness to him—the first, perhaps, he had ever known; but when the last line was delivered and the last dead man applauded off the stage, the hated taste of unreality would assail him. He would cease being Ferrex or Tamerlane and return to being nobody. Haunted, hounded, he began imagining other heroes, other tragic fables. Thus while his body, in whorehouses and taverns around London, lived its life as body, the soul that lived inside it would be Cassar, who ignores the admonition of the sibyl, and Juliet, who hates the lark, and Macbeth, who speaks on the moor with the witches who are also the Fates, the Three Weird Sisters. No one was as many men as that man—that man whose repertoire, like that of the Egyptian Proteus, was all the appearances of being. From time to time he would leave a confession in one corner or another of the work, certain that it would not be deciphered; Richard says that inside himself, he plays the part of many, and Iago says, with curious words, I am not what I am. The fundamental identity of living, dreaming, and performing inspired him to famous passages. For twenty years he inhabited that guided and directed hallucination, but one morning he was overwhelmed with the surfeit and horror of being so many kings that die by the sword and so many unrequited lovers who come together, separate, and melodiously expire. That very day, he decided to sell his theater. Within a week he had returned to his birthplace, where he recovered the trees and the river of his childhood and did not associate them with those others, fabled with mythological allusion and Latin words, that his muse had celebrated. He had to be somebody; he became a retired businessman who'd made a fortune and had an interest in loans, lawsuits, and petty usury. It was in that role that he dictated the arid last will and testament that we know today, from which he deliberately banished every trace of sentiment or literature. Friends from London would visit his re-treat, and he would once again play the role of poet for them. History adds that before or after he died, he discovered himself standing before God, and said to Him: I , who have been so many men in vain, wish to be one, to be myself. God's voice answered him out of a whirlwind: I, too, am not I; I dreamed the world as you, Shakespeare, dreamed your own work, and among the forms of my dream are you, who like me, are many, yet no one.

One morning in June, an overtired artist drove to work with his infant child strapped into the backseat, intending to deliver the baby to day care on the way. Some time later, after he’d been at work for a few hours, his wife (also a Pixar employee) happened to ask him how drop-off had gone—which is when he realized that he’d left their child in the car in the broiling Pixar parking lot. They rushed out to find the baby unconscious and poured cold water over him immediately. Thankfully, the child was okay, but the trauma of this moment—the what-could-have-been—was imprinted deeply on my brain. Asking this much of our people, even when they wanted to give it, was not acceptable.

Pamtim šta mi je mama jednom rekla o brigama. Rekla je da kada brinemo, kada nas nešto vuče nadole, treba da hodamo. Da odemo u dobru, dugačku šetnju, rekla je. Ritam se mrsi za tobom, žuri da te prestigne, pa ono između, na neki način, stekne smisao. Jedna noga je tvoje srce, druga je tvoj um. Zajedno mogu da ti olakšaju brige, da ih razbistre. "Samo hodaj", rekla je, "samo hodaj.

Most of the theaters in Jersey City and the surrounding area have been closed, demolished, renovated or restored, but nothing remained the same. The Stanley Theatre still stands in Journal Square, completely restored as a Jehovah’s Witnesses Assembly Hall. Originally built as a vaudeville and movie theater, having 4,300 seats, it opened on March 22, 1928 as the second largest theater in the United States. With only Radio City Music Hall in Manhattan across the Hudson River being larger, many celebrities attended the gala occasion. The well liked but notorious Mayor Hague was present to cut the ribbon. Famous and not-so-famous headline acts performed here, including the Three Stooges, Jimmy Durante, Tony Bennett and Janis Joplin. It was here at the Stanley Theatre that Frank Sinatra was inspired to become a professional performer. Being part of the audience, he watched Bing Crosby doing a Christmas performance. By the time the show was over, Sinatra had decided on the path he would follow. In 1933 Frank’s mother got him together with a group called the “Three Flashes.” They changed their name to the “Hoboken Four” and won first prize performing on the Major Bowes Amateur Hour show. Frank worked locally until June of 1939, when Harry James hired him for a one-year contract, paying only $75 a week. That December, Sinatra joined Tommy Dorsey’s band as a replacement vocalist for Jack Leonard, and the rest is history!

But for all that American industrial brawn and organizational ability could do, for all that the British and Canadians and other allies could contribute, for all the plans and preparations, for all the brilliance of the deception scheme, for all the inspired leadership, in the end success or failure in Operation Overlord came down to a relatively small number of junior officers, noncoms, and privates or seamen in the American, British, and Canadian armies, navies, air forces, and coast guards. If the paratroopers and gliderborne troops cowered behind hedgerows or hid out in barns rather than actively seek out the enemy; if the coxswains did not drive their landing craft ashore but instead, out of fear of enemy fire, dropped the ramps in too-deep water; if the men at the beaches dug in behind the seawall; if the noncoms and junior officers failed to lead their men up and over the seawall to move inland in the face of enemy fire—why, then, the most thoroughly planned offensive in military history, an offensive supported by incredible amounts of naval firepower, bombs, and rockets, would fail.

This novel is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the real-life case of Relf v. Weinberger. In June 1973, Minnie Lee and Mary Alice Relf, sisters aged twelve and fourteen, were sterilized without their consent in Montgomery, Alabama, by a federally funded agency.

of the church in the distance, for which Millet used the church of Chailly-en-Bière in the Île-de-France as a model. Moments before, they had been busy at work harvesting their modest potato field, as shown by the pathetically small basket at their feet. Though it fetched only a small sum at the Salon of 1860, the work became wildly popular in the 1870s and eventually would be one of the most widely replicated images of the nineteenth century. Originally purchased for one thousand francs, it fetched as much as half a million francs just thirty years later, as a result of a bidding war between the Louvre and the American Art Association. Fig. 47. Jean-François Millet, The Angelus, 1859 While some interpreted The Angelus as a religious work, as an expression of simple and humble piety, others saw it as a socialist statement, in which Millet was supposed to have paid homage to the growing worker movement in France. It is unlikely that Millet intended either; as he later said, the picture was inspired by a childhood memory in which “my grandmother, hearing the church bell ringing while we were working in the fields, always made us stop work to say the Angelus prayer for the poor departed.” Dalí was fascinated by the picture. Like Vincent van Gogh, he used it as inspiration for his own work, including a series of paintings in the early 1930s entitled The Architectural Angelus of Millet and Gala and the Angelus of Millet Preceding the Imminent Arrival of the Conical Anamorphoses. He explained his fascination with the Angelus in an essay entitled “The Tragic Myth of Millet’s Angelus,” in which he revealed that “In June 1932 appears in my mind all of a sudden, without any recent recollection nor any conscious association that lends itself to an immediate explanation, the image of Millet’s L’Angelus.” It made a strong impression on him, he continues, because for him it is “the most enigmatic, the most dense, and the richest in unconscious thoughts ever to have existed.” Fig. 48. Salvador Dalí, Archaeological Reminiscence of Millet’s Angelus, c. 1934 In fact, the painting did not strike Dalí as a rural image of devotion at all but as a source of great inner disquiet and a perfect example of what the paranoiac-critical process could discern that others didn’t. What he saw was a man “who stands hypnotized—and destroyed—by the mother. He seems to me to take on the attitude of the

She wanted steady love. A love that was too ordinary to inspire fiction. A collection of sacred, small, everyday moments — not high-stakes drama. She wanted a relationship that was a choice, every minute of every day.

Jetzt aber schließe ich die Erinnerung an ihn sorgfältig weg, lege sie an einen Ort, an dem ich Kraft daraus schöpfen kann. (June)

historical statistics tell us that July and August are the busy times on the Camino, June close but somewhat quieter, and that the shoulder seasons of May and September are ideal – warm without being too hot, and quieter without any danger of albergues and restaurants closing. April and October are seen as pushing it, weather-wise and from an infrastructure standpoint, while November to March are only for those hardy fools who either relish frozen appendages and feel that hiking 800 kilometres isn’t already enough of a challenge, or are just way too busy the rest of the year with their job as assistant manager of paddling pool security.

Then the heavy lifting began. For the next six months, our employees rarely saw their families. We worked deep into the night, seven days a week. Despite two hit movies, we were conscious of the need to prove ourselves, and everyone gave everything they had. With several months still to go, the staff was exhausted and starting to fray. One morning in June, an overtired artist drove to work with his infant child strapped into the backseat, intending to deliver the baby to day care on the way. Some time later, after he’d been at work for a few hours, his wife (also a Pixar employee) happened to ask him how drop-off had gone—which is when he realized that he’d left their child in the car in the broiling Pixar parking lot. They rushed out to find the baby unconscious and poured cold water over him immediately. Thankfully, the child was okay, but the trauma of this moment—the what-could-have-been—was imprinted deeply on my brain. Asking this much of our people, even when they wanted to give it, was not acceptable. I had expected the road to be rough, but I had to admit that we were coming apart. By the time the film was complete, a full third of the staff would have some kind of repetitive stress injury. In the end, we would meet our deadline—and release our third hit film. Critics raved that Toy Story 2 was one of the only sequels ever to outshine the original, and the total box office would eventually top $500 million. Everyone was fried to the core, yet there was also a feeling that despite all the pain, we had pulled off something important, something that would define Pixar for years to come. As Lee Unkrich says, “We had done the impossible. We had done the thing that everyone told us we couldn’t do. And we had done it spectacularly well. It was the fuel that has continued to burn in all of us.” T

The Dalai Lama says, “Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.

Meanwhile, angered by white violence in the South and inspired by the gigantic June 23 march in Detroit, grassroots people on the streets all over the country had begun talking about marching on Washington. “It scared the white power structure in Washington, D.C. to death,” as Malcolm put it in his “Message to the Grassroots” and in his Autobiography.6 So the White House called in the Big Six national Negro leaders and arranged for them to be given the money to control the march. The result was what Malcolm called the “Farce on Washington” on August 28, 1963. John Lewis, then chairman of SNCC and fresh from the battlefields of Georgia, Mississippi, and Alabama where hundreds of blacks and their white student allies were being beaten and murdered simply for trying to register blacks to vote, was forced to delete references to the revolution and power from his speech and, specifically, to take out the sentence, “We will not wait for the President, the Justice Department nor Congress, but we will take matters into our own hands and create a source of power, outside of any national structure, that could and would assure us a victory.” Marchers were instructed to carry only official signs and to sing only one song, “We Shall Overcome.” As a result, many rank-and-file SNCC militants refused to participate.7 Meanwhile, conscious of the tensions that were developing around preparations for the march on Washington and in order to provide a national rallying point for the independent black movement, Conrad Lynn and William Worthy, veterans in the struggle and old friends of ours, issued a call on the day of the march for an all-black Freedom Now Party. Lynn, a militant civil rights and civil liberties lawyer, had participated in the first Freedom Ride from Richmond, Virginia, to Memphis, Tennessee, in 1947 and was one of Robert Williams’s attorneys.8 Worthy, a Baltimore Afro-American reporter and a 1936–37 Nieman Fellow, had distinguished himself by his courageous actions in defense of freedom of the press, including spending forty-one days in the Peoples Republic of China in 1957 in defiance of the U.S. travel ban (for which his passport was lifted) and traveling to Cuba without a passport following the Bay of Pigs invasion in order to help produce a documentary. The prospect of a black independent party terrified the Democratic Party. Following the call for the Freedom Now Party, Kennedy twice told the press that a political division between whites and blacks would be “fatal.

Kristen and I always have a lot to celebrate at the end of June. First there’s Father’s Day, followed by our wedding anniversary and my birthday. But prior to the Best Practices this two-week season of parties didn’t inspire much of a celebratory mood. It always felt strange celebrating Father’s Day, given that my parenting skills had been something of a disappointment for the first three years, and the tears that Kristen had shed on our third wedding anniversary spoke rather poignantly to the fact that our marriage hadn’t been much to celebrate, either. That left my birthday, a day that was all about toasting the birth of the very person who had made Kristen’s life miserable. But after fifteen months of hard work and soul-searching, Kristen and I were finally able to look forward to this season with real anticipation. We were communicating again, and I was beginning to hit my stride as a father and as a husband. I was folding laundry, Kristen was taking her first uninterrupted showers in years, and when America’s Next Top Model wasn’t on during its regularly scheduled hour, I stayed cool as a cucumber. And that gave us plenty of reason to break out the streamers and party hats. Heck, we could have made a layer cake. In light of all this, I decided that June would be the best time to embark on my most ambitious Best Practice yet: being fun.

Roll over on your side. I would like to cuddle up with someone who is exceedingly pretty and worth some tender regard.” “So I might be inspired to whisper confidences to you?” Ellen asked, shifting carefully in the hammock. Val waited for her to get situated then rolled to his side and began stroking his hand over her shoulders, neck, and back. “The boys said you were not your most sanguine today.” Val felt the tension particularly across her shoulders, exactly where his own usually ached when he’d finished a good round of Beethoven. “Have you confidences to share?” “I do not. You will put me to sleep if you keep that up.” “Then you can dream of me, and I will dream of you—and vegetables.” “Vegetables?” Ellen quirked a glance at him over her shoulder. “Green beans, tomatoes, peppers, you know the kind.” Val kissed her nape. “Fruit helps, but I am beside myself with longing for vegetables. I could write a little rhapsody to the buttered green bean, so great is my torment.” “I understand this torment.” Ellen rolled her shoulders. “By the end of June, I am practically sleeping in my vegetable patch, so desperately do I want that first bowl of crisp, ripe beans. Mine are almost ready.” “And what about you?” Val kissed her nape again. “Are you ready?” His

(Be a Servant Leader: Mt 20:26-28; Lk 9:46-48; 22:24-27; Jn 12:24) Christ has given to every man his work, and we are to acknowledge the wisdom of the plan He has made for us by a hearty cooperation with Him. It is in a life of service only that true happiness is found. He who lives a useless, selfish life is miserable. He is dissatisfied with himself and with everyone else. True, unselfish, consecrated workers gladly use their highest gifts in the lowliest service. They realize that true service means to see and to perform the duties that God points out. There are many who are not satisfied with the work that God has given them. They are not satisfied to serve Him pleasantly in the place that He has marked out for them, or to do uncomplainingly the work that He has placed in their hands. It is right for us to be dissatisfied with the way in which we perform duty, but we are not to be dissatisfied with the duty itself, because we would rather do something else. In His providence God places before human beings service that will be as medicine to their diseased minds. Thus He seeks to lead them to put aside the selfish preferences which, if cherished, would disqualify them for the work He has for them. If they accept and perform this service, their minds will be cured. But if they refuse it, they will be left at strife with themselves and with others. The Lord disciplines His workers, so that they will be prepared to fill the places appointed them. He desires to mold their minds in accordance with His will. For this purpose He brings to them test and trial. Some He places where relaxed discipline and over-indulgence will not become their snare, where they are taught to appreciate the value of time, and to make the best and wisest use of it. There are some who desire to be a ruling power, and who need the sanctification of submission. God brings about a change in their lives, and perhaps places before them duties that they would not choose. If they are willing to be guided by Him, He will give them grace and strength to perform the objectionable duties in a spirit of submission and helpfulness. They are being qualified to fill places where their disciplined abilities will make them of the greatest service. Some God trains by bringing to them disappointment and apparent failure. It is His purpose that they shall learn to master difficulty. He inspires them with a determination to make every apparent failure prove a success. Often men pray and weep because of the perplexities and obstacles that confront them. But if they will hold the beginning of their confidence steadfast unto the end, He will make their way clear. Success will come to them as they struggle against apparently insurmountable difficulties; and with success will come the greatest joy. Many are ignorant of how to work for God, not because they need to be ignorant, but because they are not willing to submit to His training process. -8MR 422, 423 • TMK 44-The Pattern Man; UL 62-A Living Connection With the Living God

From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another. JOHN 1:16 JUNE 14 Health and prosperity can be yours. I realize that you may regard this as a very extravagant assertion—a big order, so to speak; but please remember that I do not make this assertion on my own authority. I have this on the authority of the wisest Book ever written. The Bible isn’t as fearful of promising big things as some of the more timid, halfhearted preachers of the gospel. The Bible makes superlative promises, because its promises are inspired by a loving and omnipotent God. But the Bible is also very subtle. And it points out that the blessings of health and prosperity are not easily given or easily received. Parenthetically, I want to say that by prosperity, the Bible does not mean merely material affluence; it means to enter abundantly into the blessings of God’s grace. And it tells us that health and prosperity come to us when our soul is in harmony with God.

From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another. JOHN 1:16 JUNE 14 Health and prosperity can be yours. I realize that you may regard this as a very extravagant assertion—a big order, so to speak; but please remember that I do not make this assertion on my own authority. I have this on the authority of the wisest Book ever written. The Bible isn’t as fearful of promising big things as some of the more timid, halfhearted preachers of the gospel. The Bible makes superlative promises, because its promises are inspired by a loving and omnipotent God. But the Bible is also very subtle. And it points out that the blessings of health and prosperity are not easily given or easily received. Parenthetically, I want to say that by prosperity, the Bible does not mean merely material affluence; it means to enter abundantly into the blessings of God’s grace. And it tells us that health and prosperity come to us when our soul is in harmony with

June 11, 1950. U.S. Open, Fourth Round, Ben Hogan, One Iron.

Gdmng, friends! As part of my mission to keep you present & mindful everyday, today’s reminder hits close to home: Don’t Leave Anything For LATER. We’ve all been there. You say, “I’ll do it later” & suddenly, later turns into never. Later, the coffee gets cold. Later, the day turns into night. Later, weeks turn into months (Wait, it’s already June). Later, you realize you never got around to it. Later, you might find yourself filled with regret (Wishing you’d taken that chance) Darling listen – Later, you might simply run out of “LATERS”. The chance is in your hands. Take action today & watch your “Laters” transform into amazing “DONES”…! Sweetheart, the point is, don’t wait! Remember, you had the chance & you still do! Take a moment today to think about something you’ve been putting off & make it happen! Here’s to a fantastic June filled with action, not “laters”! I wish & hope that you grab life by the horns & make it a day to remember. Happy New Month! Blessings!

Financial settlements with victims of abuse have put an increasing strain on Church finances. Nationally, the Church paid more than $3 billion to settle abuse complaints between 1950 and 2015. In Boston, the archdiocese paid $154 million to settle with 1,230 victims from 2002 through June 30, 2014, the most recent figures available. Between 2004 and 2015, twelve dioceses nationwide filed for bankruptcy protection.

All over the country, bishops broomed out of churches those priests who had once been accused of misconduct. Numerous bishops, including Cardinal Law, began voluntarily turning over to prosecutors the names of dozens of priests accused of abuse. In many states, such a step was already mandatory; others, including Massachusetts and Colorado, were poised to make it so. The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops agreed to devote its June 2002 meeting, in Dallas, to the issue of clergy sexual abuse and was ready for the first time to approve mandatory rules for all 194 dioceses in the United States, a step the bishops’ conference had resisted for nearly two decades. The new requirements would likely insist that all priests who sexually abuse minors be removed from ministry and be reported to prosecutors, that dioceses reach out to victims, and that Church workers be trained to recognize and report indications that a child might have been harmed.

Dear Friend, Your letter of 5th June…Now for your questions. 1.      Life for me is real as I believe it to be a spark of the Divine. 2.      Religion not in the conventional but in the broadest sense helps me to have a glimpse of the Divine essence. This glimpse is impossible without full development of the moral sense. Hence religion and morality are, for me, synonymous terms. 3. Striving for full realization keeps me going. 4.      This strife is the source of whatever inspiration and energy I possess. 5. The goal is already stated. 6.      My consolation and my happiness are to be found in service of all that lives, because the Divine essence is the sum total of all life. 7.      My treasure lies in battling against darkness and all forces of evil. You have asked me to write at leisure and at length if I can. Unfortunately I have no leisure and therefore writing at length is an impossibility. Yours sincerely, M.K. Gandhi

Please allow this book to offer one piece of serious advice (don't worry, this is the only one): Take control. Decide that enough is enough. Stop waiting for your advisor to guide your work - write a paper using your own brain and slap it down on his or her desk. Study - really, actually study - what it is you're studying. Realize that you can't include everything in your thesis, and drop your lofty and unrealistic plan to transform the field. You won't. Plan what you need to do to graduate, write it down, sit with the person whose approval you need, and work up a timeline. Seek out interesting conferences, and if your department won't pay for you to attend them, search for outside sponsorship. (You have the freaking internet, for crying out loud.) Actively pursue your goals, because - and it's so easy to forget this - that's why you're here. Can't find the motivation to work today? Tough shit. It's like a snow day: Every day off you give yourself makes you feel good that day, but it's one more day you'll have to make up in June when you really want to be out of school. It's possible that many graduate programs want you to get depressed, say "Fuck it" and take charge of your own destiny. They may consider this part of your necessary struggle. Well, so be it. Wait no longer. Take charge now. And get on with your stupid, stupid career.

Em termos de terror, a realidade não chega aos calcanhares do poder da imaginação

GPL Left Copy PAISX(PiphiAiSortXor) By: JRM Bacheloriate IST Project Incepted from June 14, 2017 to Mar. 3rd, 2023 9th XYZ StarGate = (Itemizer+Abstracter)[11].(Circlet + Ring + Diadem)[0110].PIRANDOM[1].ROMAN[1000] It randomizes stem objects, prefixes and sorts them alphabetically Inna standard normal distribution inspired by Diablo, and Data As A Service. The randomizer system creates blockchain objects, coins and/or envelopes the 5 pointed star for a two-way P2P hashing scheme, interprets and/or suffixes results.

GPL Left Copy Paisx(PiphiAiSortXor).Prefix(Romanticism); 5th Elemental Gate = (Itemizer+Abstracter)[11].(Circlet + Diadem)(Ring)[1111].PIRANDOM[1].Paisx.Prefix[6] Bacheloriate IST Project By: JRM, Incepted from June 14, 2017 to Mar. 3rd, 2023 Randomizes the Stem prefixed Objects, orders them alphabetically Inna standard normal distribution inspired by Diablo, and Data As A Service. The randomizer system creates objects or coins in the blockchain that envelope the 5 pointed star for a two-way P2P hashing scheme in its suffix and/or result being interpreted.

GPL Left Copy PAISX(PiphiAiSortXor) By: JRM Bacheloriate IST Project Incepted from June 14, 2017 to Mar. 3rd, 2023 5th XYZ StarGate = (Itemizer+Abstracter)[11].(Circlet + Diadem + Ring)[0110].PIRANDOM[1] It randomizes stem objects, prefixes and sorts them alphabetically Inna standard normal distribution inspired by Diablo, and Data As A Service. The randomizer system creates objects or coins in the blockchain that envelope the 5 pointed star for a two-way P2P hashing scheme, and suffixes interpreted results.

GPL Left Copy PAISX(PiphiAiSortXor) By: JRM Bacheloriate IST Project Incepted from June 14, 2017 to Mar. 3rd, 2023 5th XYZ StarGate = (Itemizer+Abstracter)[11].(Circlet + Ring + Diadem)[0110].PIRANDOM[1] It randomizes stem object prefixes, and sorts them alphabetically Inna standard normal distribution inspired by Diablo, and Data As A Service. The randomizer system creates objects or coins in the blockchain that envelope the 5 pointed star for a two-way P2P hashing scheme, and suffixes results while being interpreted.

GPL Left Copy PAISX(PiphiAiSortXor) By: JRM Bacheloriate IST Project Incepted from June 14, 2017 to Mar. 3rd, 2023 5th XYZ StarGate = (Itemizer+Abstracter)[11].(Circlet + Ring + Diadem)[0110].PIRANDOM[1] It randomizes stem objects, prefixes and sorts them alphabetically Inna standard normal distribution inspired by Diablo, and Data As A Service. The randomizer system creates blockchain objects, coins and/or envelopes the 5 pointed star for a two-way P2P hashing scheme, interprets and/or suffixes results.

Words possess immense power. Through a word, God created the world. Through The Word, who was made flesh (John 1:14), God saved the world. Words can be life-giving as well as life-threatening; life-giving by inspiring us to be all we were meant to be, and life-threatening by destroying our hopes and dashing our dreams. Ultimately, words move from being positive to being abusive when they hurt our hearts and harm our relationships.

The Interview is a 2014 American action comedy film co-produced and directed by Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg in their second directorial work, following This Is the End (2013). The screenplay was written by Dan Sterling, based on a story he co-wrote with Rogen and Goldberg. The film stars Rogen and James Franco as journalists who set up an interview with North Korean leader Kim Jong-un (Randall Park), and are then recruited by the CIA to assassinate him. The film is heavily inspired by a 2012 Vice documentary.In June 2014, The Guardian reported that the film had "touched a nerve" within the North Korean government, as they are "notoriously paranoid about perceived threats to their safety.” The Korean Central News Agency (KCNA), the state news agency of North Korea, reported that their government promised "stern" and "merciless" retaliation if the film was released. KCNA said that the release of a film portraying the assassination of the North Korean leader would not be allowed and it would be considered the "most blatant act of terrorism and war. Wikipedia

The Problem The problem I have, my friends, is too complicated. It is not only that I no longer have a home, Or a roof over my head. It is that I no longer wish to have one. I confess to you; however, that Even if I wished to have a place to call home, My wish would be impossible to realize, Because I have been erased from everywhere. Yes, the mercenaries And those who worship the dollar notes, Under the names of religions and ideologies, Have erased me from history. They have revised and rewrote my story. Everywhere I go, I find them lurking and waiting for me, To blockade me, To suffocate me, And to steal from my mouth The few crumbs of bread I have left. And so, I repeat, my friends, My problem is too complicated. I don’t have a home, I no longer want a home, And I couldn’t have a home to shelter me, Even if so I wished in my wild dreams. June 1, 2017

The Eternal Friends The three eternal friends, Time, Loneliness and Death, met at a small old café. 'You won’t last long. I will destroy you at the end,' said Time to Loneliness. 'And I will drain every minute and every second in your life. Nothing will give you joy no matter what you do or how hard you try,' Loneliness responded. After a short silence, once Death pronounced its sentence, Loneliness vanished and Time passed. June 20, 2013

All of these frameworks help us to understand why the Stonewall Riots occurred when and where they did. Some aspects of the uprising were spontaneous and unprecedented. The homophile movement of the 1950s and 1960s and its radicalization in the second half of the 1960s created the preconditions for revolt. The long history of bar-based resistance practices created a repertoire of rebellious responses. Other social movements provided revolutionary inspiration and influence. And the combination of heightened expectations and dashed hopes that many felt as the country transitioned from a period of liberal reform to one of conservative backlash—and that LGBT people experienced in the context of a new wave of police raids, violent killings, and local vigilantism—created an explosive situation that erupted on 28 June.

through him. She asked him if he would ever have faith again. He looked into her dark blue eyes, eyes the color of the bluebonnets that dotted the pastures in the spring. He said that with her help, he would try anything. Then he was walking home. Something wasn’t right. Something was following him. Whatever it was, it was strong and had no mercy.

Think the right amount